An' now the talk is
that the preacher known that thar war suthin' wrong with him, an' jest
wanted to git rid of him. Dave, you know, went up to the mourner's bench
some time ago an' got a right lively artickle of religion; but when his
hoss died he 'lowed, he did, that he didn't want no sich religion that
this here preacher would fetch an' he ups an' cusses, he does, an'
flings his religion away."
"Wall," said Jasper, "this here is news. What air they goin' to do about
it?"
"Kain't do nothin', I reckon. Dave would whup the preacher, but the gal
he is a goin' to marry told him he shouldn't. Say, Jasper, I was on my
way down to Smithfield, an' I didn't know but you mout want suthin'
fotch from down thar."
"No, ain't a hurtin' fur nothin' at the present. Lemme see. Yes, I want
you to give a order to the stone-cutter for a tombstone for mammy's
grave."
"How big?"
"Oh, 'bout three feet by six."
"Reckon you'll want suthin' cut on the rock."
"Yes. Sot up mighty nigh all night a drawin' of it off. Got it right
here.
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